Farmers’ Market

Sue's Alter-Ego, Inserted by Cathy

Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Farmer’s Martini

Wednedsday, November 18, 2009
Fifty-Fifty Vodka Martini

EEEEEEKKKKK. I am so far behind so I am going to do a blogging blitz right now, if I can remember all that I’ve tasted this week. I should borrow Cathy’s avatar of The Scream to illustrate, but The Bunny The Elephant Girl will speak for me. HA HA HA, the beauty of having two writers for this blog is that the other one can sneak in and do stuff! Work this week has been extremely busy and enveloping all my energies not only while in the office but while at home. I am in some weird mental space, so that certainly doesn’t help matters at all. I am so glad that next week is Thanksgiving and I can have a few days off. Although, I will undoubtedly check emails and bring something home with me so I do not get even further behind.

At least I thought ahead this week and made a pan of lasagna and a huge pot of vegetable-beef soup, so dinners won’t be a problem. I brought over two quarts of the soup, some fresh made cornbread and salad to the family of my friend who is still in the hospital. I haven’t even gotten over to the hospital to visit this week. I will make sure it is a priority next week.

An extra dry martini is vodka, dry vermouth, lemon juice and a lemon twist. I liked it, especially with Grey Goose vodka. We had about a quarter of a bottle left from the auction. It would have been a shame to throw it out, so it made its way home with us. I would have rather had the Grey Goose by itself, chilled to perfection, with three olives, but this was just fine. I could drink these regularly.

The Farmer’s Martini was 6 pars gin, 1 part each dry and sweet vermouth and 3-5 dashes of Angostura bitters. Since I am not a bitters fan, I only put in three dashes. It was a lovely light golden color and didn’t taste half bad, despite the bitters. I am not sure why it is called the Farmer’s Martini, though.

The Fifty-Fifty Vodka Martini had me puzzled for a good part of the evening. We used equal parts of Grey Goose, dry vermouth and, of course, cocktail olives. At the first sip, I had a memory of a previous cocktail, but I couldn’t place it. It was a pleasant taste memory, something classic, but I couldn’t pin it down. It was a comfortable feeling, an older-type drink, though. Long after the drink was gone and we were relaxing, my husband all of a sudden identified the taste: “it tasted like a Manhattan, a white Manhattan.” I had to agree. I love Manhattans, but that is generally a dark, heavier drink than the Fifty-Fifty had been—a definitely autumnal drink. Manhattans are also made with rye whisky and sweet vermouth. Manhattans, side cars, all those types of drinks fondly remind me of my dad; my husband calls them “old man” drinks.